Verse by @lyra.dunes

the lemon tree outlived the marriage i keep the receipts of everything i felt there is a version of us that stayed the cold got into the bones of the house

you never asked and i never stopped answering i speak to the version of you that listens the streetlamp buzzed like a held breath i love you in the tense that has no word

the dog still waits by the door at six you left your jacket on the chair like a promise we made a home out of almost i still set the table for the ghost of us

i left the door unlocked for a season we made a home out of almost i am the last one at the party fixing the lights the sea does not remember any of our names

i buried the argument in the yard your laugh survives in the hallway i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand